


Figments of the Brain

by Clueingforlooks221B



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Death Glare - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hater teaches Peepers how to play, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sleepy Cuddles, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Chapter one centers around Hater dealing with nightmares, chapter two Peepers, and chapter three the watchdogs. (Chapter one piece):Drawing in a deep breath, he pokes Peepers lightly on his shoulder. Peepers shifts, nuzzling his face into his single white pillow. He shoves him with his pointer finger again, harsher this time, and the commander mumbles as he moves his shoulders and inclines his body further into his pillow, snuggling with it. His arms are tangled around the pillow, and his hands peek out at the top.“Uhh C Peeps?” Although the question is whispered, it penetrates loudly through the ear-numbing silence.Hater jabs him again, this time in the ribs, and jolts backwards when Peepers lets out a snore. “Peepers? Oh buddy… pal, can you hear me? I’d really appreciate it if you woke up now.” His words are drenched in sugar tainted lemonade. The kind that makes a person want to choke as their tastebuds are viciously attacked by something that seems so innocent. Hater pokes him one last time, and Peepers lack of response makes him see red that isn't coming from the emergency lights.“PEEPERS!”





	1. Hater

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is about Hater dealing with nightmares, and the second chapter will be Peepers. Enjoy!

He jolts up, sweat lapping at his bones. Black scribbles itself across his pupils, and he can't make anything out in between the gaps. 

The blankets that once brought him comfort now throttle him. Wrestling with them, he is quickly being sucked under. In a blurry haze he fends them off with his hands, but more keep coming in a seemingly never ending cycle. With stiff limbs he desperately pulls at the covers weakly. He searches for a hole, seeking some sort of escape from the dark hot void. 

Cold air tumbles into his body, brining relief and breaking the chaos. He throws the covers, watching in satisfaction as they plow to the ground in a defeated heap. His tongue is out, panting, as he brings the back of his hand to his temples to try and pry the sweat off himself. But there’s too much, glued to his back and neck. 

A loud growl of agitation bounces off his dark walls, and his shoulders tense as it echoes. His long fingers curve and point downwards, akin to a frightened cat. Costively he glances around, but then realization settles in. He’s in his own quarters, so no one can hear him. 

Besides, he is Lord Hater! He can be loud. He can wake up the whole ship if he wants to because he’s the one in charge! 

His lips curl at the reminder. 

Speaking of waking people up. 

He turns besides him, but Captain Tim isn't there. His pillow is on the floor, and Hater doesn't even have to search the room to know that he isn’t in it. 

 Lord Hater has been having nightmares for the past week, and each night hoping that he won’t goes to vain when they interrupt him in the early morning. And it isn’t Peepers early, it is even earlier. One or two in the morning. Each night Captain Tim has fled, although to be fair Hater unconsciously kicks him off the bed while he is tossing and turning. 

Hater hasn’t been able to fall back to sleep, and would lie there trying for the rest of the night. He feigns sleep when Peepers comes to wake him up, but is starting to suspect Peepers knows. He looks at him in concern during meetings when Hater knows his eyes are drooping, and asks him if he is okay more often. Lord Hater snaps each time, but he can’t help it, he's exhausted. 

Last night he played video games, but today he’s bored of them and not in the mood. 

He can’t remember his dream, but the fear smacking his heart and plaguing his mind will not leave. Hater growls again, flopping down face first into his pillow. 

The night before he dreamed of Dominator, and the night before that Wander, and the night before that one Dominator again. Dominator killing him, Peepers, or Captain Tim. Dominator destroying his ship. Dominator ripping his heart from his chest and making it bleed down his eyes and glueing it on his shirt to match her. In some dreams they got together, but it wasn’t his fantasy ending. That scared him a lot. He finally got her, and the relationship wasn’t what he wanted. In every dream Dominator destroyed everything, and not in a good way. 

He guesses his dreams aren’t far from reality, and that gets to him the most. 

Whatever dream he had tonight he knows it’s been the worst. It crawls in the back of his consciousness, itching to be let out, but it must have been so terrible Hater blocked it from his mind. That doesn’t stop it from haunting him though.

His bones are anneal and tremble against each other for support. Loud clicks resonate through the room, and the force of his teeth clunking together rattles his skull. 

The weird part is that he isn't cold. 

 The urge to hold someone or something barricades his brain and stretches his heart. Hater feels sick with nausea at the rare feeling, and overwhelmed. With not having the want- that now is starting to feel like a need- often he doesn't know how to handle it. His hands are stiff and coil into his palms for comfort. 

His fingers clutch at the pillow, but it isn’t enough. The tease of having someone there just infuriates him more. He wishes desperately Captain Tim was here, but knows that once he doesn’t want to be found it is impossible to locate him. 

Earlier in the week the demand stumbled across his conscience, sure, but it wasn't being screeched like it is now. His limbs were not acting like this, and going against what he was thinking. 

He bones are buzzing now. Every moment feels like it’s going so fast and spiraling out of his control, yet he’s moving so slow when he gathers himself to sit up again. 

He needs someone. 

Someone loyal and kind, preferably small. Someone who won’t tell anyone about this, ever. Someone who knows how to make him feel… just normal again. 

He needs Captain Tim! 

Hater dwells in frustration, huddling himself into a ball to attempt to make his trembling subside. 

Who else other than Captain Tim? Who would be quiet and… comfort him? 

Who would snuggle with him? 

No, no! Hater flinches inwardly at himself, limbs shooting back out into a lying position and stiffening. Not snuggle! Just lie closely next to him in an evil manly way.

Who is there left? 

Recognition gradually creeps across his conscience. Peepers. He’s loyal, and always knows the right things to say. He never tells anyone anything, but Hater thinks that has to do more with him not having any friends. 

He needs Peepers.

His thoughts leave him as the panic filters in, and he is walking to Peepers room before he has the chance to debate with himself about going. Although he wants to run his limbs move like he’s in water. His heart quivers in his ribcage, and rings in his ears. 

Peepers room has never felt so far. 

Peepers has never felt so far away. 

Solace is something Hater never thought he would get the sensation of from the sight of a door. Frigid air tickles his feet from the crack under Peepers shut door. It beckons to him, slivering up his legs and calming his bones that are radiating heat yet somehow still shaking. 

His hand dances along the golden brass door knob. The first touch sends a jolt of biting ice that nips up his arms, and if Hater had skin goosebumps would have penetrated the surface of it.

Contravention claws in his chest, raking its long nails along his heart and cutting along the insides of his ribs. Why won’t I stop shaking?! The cry makes the dissatisfaction morph to lividness, and the nails start tearing his body ruthlessly. 

Forcing himself to exhale, Hater mumbles, “Alright Hater keep it together. You’re totally cool and awesome and in control.” 

His self mantra does little to aid him, but he assembles his bones and stills his hand enough to twist the handle open. 

The door crawls into the crepuscular room, and the emergency lights from the hallway illuminate the poster of Lord Hater that looms above Peepers bed. The lights bask it in shades of red and drown down onto the form of Peepers. He is curled up into himself, appearing even smaller than usual. His chest rises and falls steadily, and the purple sheets are drawn up tightly around him. 

Fresh clean air expands his lungs and floods his veins as he takes his first step into the tiny room. He didn't realize how hard it was for him to breathe until now. 

Hater stays on the pads of his feet, trying to lighten his weight as he descends towards Peepers bed. The blue lines racing across his black walls and spiraling along the ceiling also attribute light to the room, so Hater has an easier time making it to Peepers bed. Although, he knows that he doesn't have to worry about tripping since Peepers keeps his room impossibly neat. Come to think of it, Peepers does not have much to begin with. Hater inwardly argues that his room would be spotless if he didn't have all his awesome stuff, stupid perfect Peepers. 

Analogous to the poster, Lord Hater towers over the slumbering figure of Peepers. Being up close he now notices the teal headphones that shroud the sides of Peepers face. Funny, Hater didn't think Peepers was the type to listen to music while sleeping. Mockingly laughing under his breath, he figures that it’s some dumb nerdy classical music. His quivering bones start to still at the comfort of familiarity. 

Plucking the headphones off his face, he giddily lifts one of the speakers to his ear. "I am enough. I am…" Shooting the speaker back he gags, “Ahh gross!!” He throws them down on Peepers dresser vociferously. 

Peepers stirs as the headphones pierce through the deafening silence. 

As Lord Hater awkwardly stares at his unconscious commander, he ponders if he should wake him up. He is feeling a little better, but the thought of returning to his room alone again makes his stomach want to plod up his throat. 

Drawing in a deep breath, he pokes Peepers lightly on his shoulder. Peepers shifts, nuzzling his face into his single white pillow. He shoves him with his pointer finger again, harsher this time, and the commander mumbles as he moves his shoulders and inclines his body further into his pillow, snuggling with it. His arms are tangled around the pillow, and his hands peek out at the top.

“Uhh C Peeps?” Although the question is whispered, it penetrates loudly through the ear-numbing silence.

Hater jabs him again, this time in the ribs, and jolts backwards when Peepers lets out a snore. 

“Peepers? Oh buddy… pal, can you hear me? I’d really appreciate it if you woke up now.” His words are drenched in sugar tainted lemonade. The kind that makes a person want to choke as their tastebuds are viciously attacked by something that seems so innocent. 

Hater pokes him one last time, and Peepers lack of response makes him see red that isn't coming from the emergency lights.

“PEEPERS!”

Instantaneously he shoots up, the force of it ripping the covers away from his body. His eye is squinted and sleep runs along the crevices of his lids. It interlaces into his short light lashes. 

“Hu- what?” Peepers slurs out, but it sounds incomprehensible to Lord Hater. 

The commander begins to ruthlessly scrub the sleep out of his eye, desperately trying to alert his senses. 

He searches around for what woke him up, and once his pupil falls on Hater he is wide awake. “Sir?!” Peepers jumps, spine straightening. It cuts through the silence, making Hater’s ears wince. 

“Sir what’s wrong?!” In the blink of his eye Peepers is pulling out his gun from under his pillow. It whirrs to life, top glowing red. 

“If there was someone attacking I would have blasted them already!” 

The lack of patience in his tone is evidence to Peepers that something isn't seriously wrong.

His shoulders slump, and fatigue eats away at his senses. He rubs his eye, sighing out, “Sir what’s wrong?”  
   
Hater dejectedly sags, shoulders pulling him down as he sheepishly rings his hands together. He looks down to Peepers dark floor. “Uhh,” 

All the while Peepers is tackling his eye to not stay shut. He went to bed later than usual, and has been feeling sleep-deprived with thoughts of Dominator too. Plan after plan of failures of how to stop her, and each day looking more hopeless than the last. 

Peepers rubs at the top of his eye, the reminder of Dominator wearing him down as all effort is torn out of him in a single broken exhale. 

“I had a nightmare.” 

Conscience is brought to him from the meekly muttered sentence. With his eye half lidded he glances up at Hater, who is staring at the floor. Peepers wishes he was more awake, but he can barely manage to breathe right now. 

 So he shifts over on his bed, drawing the covers up to allow enough room to let Hater in. 

After several seconds of Hater still looking at the ground, Peepers calmly sighs out, “Come on then.” 

Hater’s head pops up, and if Peepers was more aware he would have feared Hater’s jaw would have came off from the force of the action. 

His eyes grow wide, and shine in naiveness. “Really?” 

Peepers musters enough strength to give a single nod, grumbling out, “Yes come on.” 

He slaps the empty space next to him once, like a person motioning for a dog to join them. 

Hater jumps into bed next to him, and the minute Peepers head hits his pillow he sees darkness. 

The commander knows what is going on, yet at the same time is too out of it to really comprehend it. Sure he knows Lord Hater is in his bed, but isn't thinking Lord Hater is in his bed. If he was more aware it would have taken him much more time to fall asleep, if he even managed to fall asleep. 

A wide smile spreads across Hater’s face as tranquility settles into his bones. Since Peepers is practically already asleep Hater steals his pillow, so Peepers sleepy opts for blindly finding the next firm but soft object. It happens to be Hater’s chest, and aware but not really comprehending that fact Peepers cuddles into him. Hater doesn't care since no one can see, and Peepers warmth and presence calms him. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, or much less even out loud to himself. 

Everything's perfect. 

Except when Hater shifts to straighten his legs out, and they're hanging off Peepers bed. 

Hater tries to shift more to the right, but if he moves any further he will fall off the bed. If he moves anymore to the left Peepers will fall. 

“Peepers your bed is too small!” Hater complains, dragging the words through the silence. 

Peepers, who is still half awake whines out, “Sirrr…” The rest of what he wants to say falls to a jumble of moans. 

Peepers lightly thrashes in frustration of being bothered again against Haters chest, engraving himself into Hater’s shirt. 

Hater sits up and Peepers sinks down Hater’s chest, whimpering as his head falls into his lap. “Peepers come on we’re moving back to my room, my bed is bigger and better.” 

Peepers is already almost fully back asleep, half of his conscience in a dream of just warm blackness. The other half lazily convincing himself that reality is a dream since there’s no way Hater would be in his bed. 

Hater gets up and Peepers almost sobs when the warmth is ripped away from him. He ends up with a face-full of freezing mattress. 

Blindly Peepers reaches out for the source of heat, “No don’t go.” He grumbles out, and Hater barely makes out the words. 

Grabbing onto Peepers limp arm, Hater schlepps him out of bed. Peepers remains motionless, face digging into his mattress. 

“Peepers come on.” Hater’s demand falls numb on Peepers caved-in shoulders. He huffs out, pretending to be annoyed as he lifts Peepers into his arms. 

Peepers grouses, lashing in Hater’s arms momentarily. He stills when he settles into a comfortable position. His head is nestled in Hater’s neck, arms trapped in between his and Hater’s chests. His eye remains closed throughout the whole encounter, and Hater assumes he is fully asleep now. 

As he takes the first several steps Peepers jostles in his arms. His hands fall, hanging down and his body starts to slip with them. Hater’s jaw clenches as his shoulders bounce, hands hurrying to hold Peepers tighter. Carefully he takes Peepers small hands in his large one, debating what to do with them. He stands there, motionless, staring down at Peepers small hands in his palm. He maneuvers them around his neck, and Peepers head settles back under his neck. He lets out a nasally content exhale, and Hater refuses to coo at it. Out loud, that is. In his mind he is failing, words like adorable, cute, mixed in with agitated screams bubble in his mind. 

Throughout the walk to Hater’s room, he hopes that no watchdogs will see them. Without a doubt bad rumors would arise from the sight of him carrying his commander. Late at night. To his bedroom.

Little did Lord Hater know, many rumors about him and Peepers conspired months ago and now they're old news to talk about. 

Hater kicks the door open to his bedroom, door bouncing against his bedroom walls. The noise, shockingly, doesn't disturb Peepers. He draws back his sheets, exhaustion suddenly impending his bones. He lies down, shifting Peepers in his arms with one hand and adjusting the pillow behind him with another. 

Before he falls asleep, he forces himself to blindly deactivate his alarm clock. 

If Peepers wakes up at his usual time tomorrow, Hater vows to make him stay in bed until at least one in the afternoon. 

He lies down, Peepers head resting on his chest being the last thing he sees before he slips unconscious. This time his dreams are black serene panels emitting warmth, and for the first time in months Peepers sleeps in. 

Until eight am that is, Hater having methods convincing him to stay until one.


	2. Peepers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the incredible feedback on this! :) I've been so busy with college and WOY-tober, but am so glad I finally edited this chapter and am posting. I hope you like it!

A large bolt of ice spirals towards Lord Hater, but before Peepers can leap to interfere in its path Hater has been stricken. He staggers, attempting to take a step back but his feet are planted firmly in the freezing water puddled around his ankles. The ominous force of darkness looms over him, nearing closer and closer. Its hands are larger than the rest of its body, dripping with glimmering stark icicles. 

Commander Peepers tries to call out, but horror clogs his throat. He can’t speak around it; it’s too thick. Ice sprints and intertwines, ascending up Hater’s bones. The commander’s chiffon iris gnaw at his cowering wilting pupil. The force cackles, and Peepers confirms what he already somehow knows. Dominator.

Hater stretches his neck up, attempting to stay as far from the ice as possible. Peepers growls in agitation at himself, but nothing but an exhale trickles out of his lids. Why can’t I scream? Why can’t I move? He tries to look down at his legs but his head won’t allow him, locked in the scene playing out right in front of him. 

The ice is choking around Hater’s neck, and he flashes enlarged pleading eyes. But instead of looking at Dominator, he’s staring at Peepers. Something slices through his chest, and from the frigid rawness of it Peepers swears for a minute Dominator hit him with ice too. He feels cold and hollow, dread filling up into his speckle of a pupil. He can finally look down, but all he sees is the sable fabric of his uniform stretched across his heaving chest. Peepers wishes she struck him, craving the pain to be physical instead of emotional. Physical pain has always been so much easier for him to tackle. 

The ice creeps slowly up Hater’s face, and all Peepers can do is watch. Dominator’s giggles get louder, practically screeches now that Hater’s face has become a block of ice. She backs up, swinging her leg up to make a blow in Hater’s abdomen. 

Peepers yells out, the scream raking up his throat, but it stays tightly wound behind the crevices of his lids. More pointless breathing escapes him. He can feel his legs moving rapidly, but he’s not moving at all. He shifts his shoulders and it feels like the world is spinning, but once again he is motionless. 

Once her leg kicks time crawls by, yet the racing of Peepers heart doesn't match the tempo. It punches his chest, begging his trembling heavy yet light limbs to have some sort of movement. 

As her leg goes through, the ice around her cracks, shattering as her leg swings right through his abdomen. The ice explodes, brining Hater’s bones down with it. They fall to a pile of broken bones, ashes, and ice. His bones still have a layer of ice over them, sparkling, as Dominator starts to kick them to even more ivory powder.

Her cackling is all he can hear, penetrating his ears and making him want to screech. Shut up! SHUT UP! But she won’t stop, somehow growing even louder. 

When nothing but white dust remains she rubs her sneakers into the grass to clean them, chortling finally ceasing. But a crooked sharp toothed simper stretches her features, and her eyes shine in her dull irises as she walks away. A loose giggle here and there tumbles out of her esophagus, echoing into the eerily silent grassy landscape. 

Finally he can move. He takes off running, but is thrown off when he is suddenly in front of the scene of the crime. Hater’s bones lie, broken and smashed, and Peepers sinks to his knees. He’s never in his whole life felt so lost. For once he doesn't know what to say, or do. He has no plan. 

His vision blurs and he blindly reaches for one of the only pieces of actual bone left, embracing it. “Oh, sir.” The words waver, coming out wavy and beryl. They plummet onto the ashes below, wetting them. The white dust melts into the grass blades, blending into the dirt. Tears start to gather in the corners of his eye, building up until his bottom lid can’t cradle them anymore. His head hangs as his heavy tears flood the land, broken sobs crackling out of his lungs and beating against his ribs along the way. They scratch at his throat, and his body is pounding. Everything aches, but it doesn't stop Peepers from openly bawling.

It is all his fault. He’s the one who gave Dominator ice powers. He’s the one who couldn't run to block Hater in time. Some second in command he sure is. Peepers clutches at more of Hater’s remains, desperate for anything that’s telling that Hater could still live. Faith that Hater will gather his bones and stand again like he always does. With each second his aspiration is escaping out from his tears, abandoning his chest causing it to screech even harder. 

He lets out a scream, but it’s not satisfying since it comes out a whisper. Why can’t I scream? He drops the bone, gripping at his temples as he tries to yell again. Grop Lord Hater is dead. He doesn't care that no one can hear his screeching anymore, continuing to faintly do so.“Sir! Sir!” Peepers cries for him in between his sobs, desperate for an answer. This can’t be true Hater is too great to die! He needs him. “Sir! HATER!” 

 

Peepers eye snaps open, gasping for air as he throws the covers off himself to sit up. He bends forwards, body caving into itself as he fights to get air in. His room feels like it’s boiling, the four walls feeling so much closer. 

Sure his room is small, but he's never felt this suffocated in it. 

At times like this he wishes that he had his tape back for his headphones. The tape he made long ago always kept the nightmares at bay, making his dreams procedural and orderly. But someone took it out and replaced it with rock music. Bad, rock music. 

Lord Hater!   Peepers leaps out of bed, but as he nears the door images plague him, reminding him that it was all just a dream. 

A quavering laugh wavers through his shaking lids. 

“This is ridiculous I shouldn't be scared! It was just a figment of my imagination, it wasn't real… right?” Peepers eye grows wide at the fathom that Hater could be dead. 

No he’s being crazy! This is all just mind over matter! Once he lies back down and blocks it out he’ll fall back asleep, and his pulsating heart will slow back to its usual trot. 

Yet, it couldn't hurt to just take a peek. Just to make sure Hater’s okay. It’s his job after all, and besides, no one but him is going to know about it. 

Already feeling a little better from yielding his conscious, he briskly walks to Hater’s bedroom. 

Peepers takes the back route, wanting to avoid having to unlock and pass through all of Hater’s grand entrances. 

Like the commander suspected his door is shut. Peepers gathers up his bravery to go inside for several minutes. Using the pads of his feet, he watches his long pearl socks pace along the floorboards. He is thankful that none of the floorboards are creaky, but never one to take chances, he continues to keep his weight off his feet.

Dragging in a forced long breath, Peepers mumbles to the empty hallway, “If I keep pacing out here I’m going to get caught for sure.” 

Halting, the world dances around him from pacing too fast. Heart pounding he swallows his thick saliva, trapping it further into his tightening throat.   Why is he so scared? He’s just making sure Hater is okay. He’s defiantly asleep at this hour, and it’s not like the dream was actually real. 

Bracing himself, his pupil shrinks as the door creaks open. Peepers keeps a firm hand on the door handle, guiding it as he cautiously inches it open a crack. 

The emergency lights from the hallway shine onto the king sized mattress. He sees the tiny figure of Captain Tim snoozing on his pillow, broad shamrock saliva pooling on his burnt chiffon pillow. Besides him, though, all he sees are drawn down wrinkled sheets.

Hater isn't there. 

He shoves the rest of the door open, wildly peering inside to make sure his eye isn't deceiving him. The door’s handle bangs against the wall, emitting cracking that shakes the wall and echoes. The door runs back to Peepers, smacking against his boot and crawling to an open once more.

No. No way.

Taking several steps back, his legs itch to run. He’s sure this is all just a coincidence, maybe Hater’s in-

His spine slams into something hard. 

Or a someone, more like it. 

Peepers gasps, jolting. He breaks away, staring up at Lord Hater’s puzzled face. 

He doesn't know if he's more scared or relieved to see him. 

“Lord Hater sir!” It’s all Peepers can manage to squeak out, honestly not sure what to say. 

In his arms Hater nurses a box of cheesy puffs and a root beer. His jaw is covered in the orange powder from his literal midnight snack, and he brings the back of his hand up to brush it away. 

“C Peeps what are you doing up?” He glances past Peepers into his bedroom, knowing that he shut the door before he went to the kitchen. His eyes narrow at Peepers, and conspiracies of his commander plotting against him flood into his brain. 

Honestly Peepers doesn't even know the reason to the question himself. It’s nothing he wants to think or come to terms about. What is he supposed to say? I wanted to check to make sure you were still alive?   The awkward silence makes everything worse, and multiplies Hater’s suspicion. 

“I just wanted to come and remind you that…” Peepers searches for an excuse, trying to pull anything that makes a wink of sense from his lagged brain. “tomorrow,” He continues to rip the crevices of his vessels apart for logical words. With each passing second the fire in Hater’s chest heightens, engulfing his mottle of patience. 

“That tomorrow what?!” Hater snaps after growing tired of watching his commander scramble for words. 

“That tomorrow.” Peepers nods, inwardly wincing. 

“You just came here to remind me that tomorrow.” Hater crosses his arms, staring doubtfully down at his so called commander. 

“No that’s not all sir! Haha of course not! That’d be just plain silly.” Peepers laughs nervously, dragging his next words out, “That tomorrow isss trash day.” 

Hater deadpans. “You came here at one in the morning to remind me that tomorrow is trash day?” 

Slowly Peepers nods, “Yes? Speaking of which why are you up?!” His bottom lid scrunches up, black pupil staring critically at Hater. 

His face drops, before he crosses his arms. “I couldn't sleep and got hungry, and-“ His tone builds up in defensiveness, before his eyes widen. 

Lord Hater glowers, dragging his body closer to Peepers to loom even further over him. The effect works, Peepers pupil shrinking as he meekly stands his ground. “Don’t change the subject!” 

Inwardly Peepers sighs, he really had hoped that would work. 

“I know trash days aren't tomorrow,” This is a shot in the dark. Hater doesn't know when trash day is, he doesn’t pay attention to boring duties. The watchdogs take out his trash for him anyways. By the indication of Peepers shoulders wilting, Hater knows his guess was right. “Why are you lying to me, commander?” Hater bites out his title. 

Mortification pushes his lids down, and Peepers drags his hand across his face to get a grip on it. Grop, he’s going to have to tell the truth. He can’t believe this. 

Peepers groans, “All right sir, I had a vivid dream that you died so I just came to make sure it wasn't true. And I knew it wasn't but for some odd reason I came to check anyways.” His voice is saturated in deep humiliation, staining the air around them and making the air thick again. It’s like poison, making his insides twist and want to retch. It taints his lungs, causing him to feel heavy and faint. 

In Hater’s head Wander’s voice rushes to his mind, bouncing around. He cares about you! He squeals, and Hater can see the lovey dovey eyes of Wander’s that shone when he realized his feelings for Dominator. That’s why he came to check on you it’s fate for you two to be together!

Agh gross how did Wander get in his head?! And why is he telling lies? Peepers doesn't care about him that way! Peepers is all brains he doesn't even look in interest at Dominator and she’s hot! 

Unless, maybe, he is only into…

Peepers meek voice cuts through his thoughts. “Well that’s all sir, sorry to bother you this late. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” 

His voice is tighter, and his pupils shine. They look pained, his whole figure does. His limbs hang lower, and in his quick paced steps to escape back to the confinements of his room his legs trudge. 

“Wait!” Peepers twists to look over his sholder, and Hater glances down at his feet. “Maybe, if youdon’twanttobealone, to you know get the chance to hang out with the greatest person in the universe, since we’re both up, unlessyouwanttogobacktosleep, you wanna come into my room to hang out for a while? Maybe watch some T.V., or play video games?” Hater trails off. 

Peepers stares back at him in shock. Sure they've hung out a lot in the past- Peepers is even positive Hater considers him as a real friend now- but there’s always justifications. The figurines are for planning out schemes; Peepers created it so that Hater would actually listen to his plans. Of course, it always dwindles into scenarios that Peepers knows aren’t likely to happen, and they get off track. 

“I don’t care if you say no, your loss!” Hater crosses his arms, spewing out the blatant lie. 

Peepers shakes his head, lids moving in rapid motions, “I- uh,” He inhales, taking a moment to gather the right words. “Yes sir I’d like that.” 

Hater turns around, jaw momentarily spreading into a small smile. He shoves it off as he turns, opening his bedroom door. 

Peepers trickles in behind him, and settles on sitting on the edge of Hater’s bed. 

Hater sets down his cheesy puffs and root beer besides Peepers, going to the front of the T.V. to grab his game consoles. Plopping one of the consoles into Peepers lap, he jumps onto the bed besides him. Peepers is almost thrown off it from the weight of it, and has to fling his arms out to steady himself, fingers biting into the covers. 

In rapid motions Peepers can’t begin to follow, Hater punches the buttons and a series of screens flicker across his wide television that extends over his whole wall on the back of his bed. He blinks, and the intro to the game is being skipped. Peepers grips his game console, looking at the series of colorful buttons in puzzlement. 

Techno music blasts, and Hater’s character is racing across the screen. Peepers character is being dragged along, sliding against where the scenery ends. Hater notices this, but continues to make his character run. “Come on Peepers move your character! We’re loosing time!” 

Peepers turns to look at Hater, whose eyes are glued to the screen. Bright greens, blues, and reds from the T.V. illuminate his face and drench his porcelain skin in colorful shadows. His dark pupils flash, dancing in-between the primary colors. 

“I don't know how to play sir.” Peepers meekly admits. There’s something he's not used to doing. He knows how to do everything. Sure some stuff he doesn't do well, but he gets the linguistics. 

Hater blinks, the possibility not at all dawning to him. How could someone have never had played video games? 

He pauses the game. “Oh. Well you press A to run, B to stop, and the button on the top is to shoot a power. But you only get a power from a blinking box, or if you collect a certain number of coins. Oh and to get a power you got ten seconds, or else it will disappear. To get it you have to click the other button on top, but you also have to press down on C at the same time. To fist fight it’s a combo, which isn't that hard, you just have to…” With each direction Peepers is quickly loosing him. “And oh yeah C is to jump.” Hater ends, and Peepers mutely nods his head.

Well, at least he remembers how to run, and now jump too. Hater can do all the fighting and he’ll just follow. That’s all you really need to know how to do in a game, right? How complicated can it be? Peepers leads an army, so this should be a breeze for him. 

It’s not. He barely manages to jump over and avoid the series of critters. But Hater’s doing well and grinning, so Peepers is content. 

Before Peepers knows it they're at the end of the game, battling the main villain of level one. The only thing Peepers still knows how to do is jump, run, and now stop too. He tried to peer over at Hater to see how to do stuff, but his fingers move in a series of blurs. His pride wrestles with his curiosity, the later loosing by a long shot.

Now he wishes he had just manned up and fought his pride harder. 

Hater’s character just died. And he isn't coming back this time since all his lives are gone. 

He throws back his head, growling in fury. “WHAT?! THAT WAS SO UNFAIR THIS GAME IS SO STUPID!! HIS ICE WASN’T EVEN ANYWHERE NEAR ME!” 

Hater throws his counsel on the ground, bottom lip hanging heavily as he glowers at the screen. “Avenge me well, C Peeps.” 

Peepers makes his character jump, narrowly avoiding a block of ice being thrown at him. It’s not possible for him to win without knowing how to fight, eventually he’ll be struck. 

Peepers pauses the game, his bottom lids tilting upwards as he turns to look at Hater. “I don't know how to fight,” he admits, “I only know how to jump, run, and stop. Oh, and pause.”

Hater jaw hangs open. “Oh.” The Wander-y sort of voice is back in his conscious, reprimanding him for not noticing. For now feeling like he’s been forcing Peepers to play the whole level. 

Once again he lists off instructions and codes, leaving Peepers to feel even more puzzled than when he began. This time Hater notices the blank stare in his pupil, mirroring most of the watchdogs on the ship. 

“Here I’ll just show you. Move closer.” Peepers blood heats, but regardless he shifts closer. Hater stares at him, barely noting the inch Peepers moved. “Closer.” Hater instructs, wondering why for once his commander isn't heading his orders. Peepers shifts a more noticeable distance this time. Honestly it’s close enough, but Hater wants to test his developing theory. His earlier suspicion comes back to him. 

No way.

“Closer.” Light pink dabs the corners of his eye, and with each millimeter he slides the shade grows darker, blending across his eye. 

Hmm. Interesting. 

“Closer.” Hater instructs again, and the corners of Peepers eye matches his eye color. 

“Sir I can’t move any closer.” Peepers states, his shoulder rubbing against Hater’s arm. 

“Yeah you can.” He stares at Peepers, whose top lid arches. “I don’t-“ Hater doesn't let him finish, picking him up and setting him on his lap. Since he’s sitting criss-cross his knees trap Peepers in. His hands clutch Hater’s knees in shock of the sudden action, eye blossoming in shades of red. Peepers stutters, but doesn't even know what he’s trying to say. 

Hater arranges the console in his hands, holding it steady and picking up Peepers fingers. Since Peepers spine is standing tensely Hater has an easier time resting his chin above his shoulder. He focuses on the console that he now has a much better view of, using Peepers finger that’s under his to resume the game. 

“Okay, so to fight you click A and the button on the top right at the same time.” As he speaks his breath warms the side of Peeper’s face, causing him to sharply inhale with each word Hater speaks. 

Hater adjusts both of Peepers hands as he states the directions, words going unheard by Peepers whose other senses were to busy focusing on the hot air traveling down his back and licking his neck. 

His body remains tense, fingers included, as he watches Hater defeat the villain on the screen. 

As the fight wears on Hater’s chin falls to Peepers shoulder, resting there as he angles his head to better see the buttons. He doesn't have to look under Peepers taunt fingers, for he’s memorized where all the buttons are. 

After several seconds Peepers musters up the courage to move his eye, glancing down at Haters and his conjoined hands. They’re hot and sweating, akin to everything else in his body. His iris goes through stages of dimming to a light pink when everything is silent to crimson when Hater speaks. 

When Peepers partially gets through the initial shock, he starts to learn some of the motions, and moves his hand in sync with Hater’s. 

With the final strike the villain falls, crying out. 

“Alright!” Hater throws his hands in the air. Peepers lids tilt up at his excitement. 

“Do you want to do the next level?” Hater was about to go jumping to the next one, but remembered the earlier predicament and the feeling that came with it.

Peepers is far from being tired, so nods. Hater reaches to the side, grabbing his console back. Since no one makes a move to speak of their position, neither of them move. Hater just shifts his remote to Peepers side, and Peepers inches a little more to the right so they each have a bit of room. 

As the levels go by, Peepers relaxes more and more. By level three he is leaning into Haters chest, and by level five he’s lying his head on Hater’s collarbone as he plays. Peepers has gotten as good as Hater and they are flying through the game together. Hater never preferred playing with another person, not seeing a point. But now he wants Peepers to play every game with him, and he wants to show him every two player game he owns. They make a good team, and both admit that out loud several times to each other in the victory of beating another villain. 

Around two in the morning their sleep deprived screams echo off the walls of Hater’s bedroom. Cries of “yes!” when powers strike villains down, and low grunts and yells when they loose. When they win, higher pitched exclamations. 

Unbeknownst to them the door was left ajar, the noise traveling down the halls and under the cracks of the watchdogs bedrooms. Some are woken by this and snicker, while others growl in annoyance and lift their pillows to cover their ears. 

After some time of the screams pounding against their ear drums, a watchdog cries out, “Could they have at least waited until a more decent hour?”

Another watchdog, on the lower bunk, stares up past the wooden panels and white mattress to where he knows his friend is. He cackles, “The commander is more wild than I thought he was.”    
Others giggle in agreement, but quickly tire of it when the noise somehow still continues hours later. “Man will they ever stop? How much longer can they go on is this even physically possible?!” The watchdog on the top bunk snaps, shooting up. 

“Trust me they both have a lot of pent up emotions.” One of the watchdogs across from the room on one of the lower bunks mumbles sleepily. 

“That’s it!!” The watchdog from the top bunk snaps, briskly stomping down the latter and jumping over the last three steps. He rips the door open, slamming his feet down against the marble floor as he races to the back door of Lord Hater’s bedroom. 

As he nears closer he realizes what he’s doing, but he’s already three steps away. Besides he desperately wants to sleep. 

“Yes sir right there!!” Peepers cries out, voice horse. “Hold it!”   “I don't know if I can!” Hater grunts out.

“Sure you can sir!” 

Immediately at the same time they both erupt in cries, “Yes!!”   The watchdog shudders, lids hanging as he gags. He looks away from the crack revealing what is going on inside the room, not wanting to see anything life scarring as he eases the door to a whispering close.

The hallway is enclosed in immediate silence. The watchdog heaves a sigh of relief, thankful for Hater’s sound proof walls. 

He jogs back to the room, and the watchdogs- now all awake-cheer. He playfully bows, shutting their door again as he leaps into his bed. 

Meanwhile back in Lord Hater’s bedroom they have just beat the game. Hater having to defend the bad guy as Peepers character died, of screen for ten seconds before he was aloud to be resurrected since he had lives left. 

They pant in exhaustion from the thrill of almost not beating the final level. Hater throws his console down, collapsing onto his back. His spine digs into the mattress, and only once he’s lying does he realize how tired he is. Peepers, whose still in his lap bouncing in excitement, grips his console tight. His pupil is wide, lids pulled back tightly in a grin. His chest drastically rises and falls, and Hater watches it. “That. Was. Amazing.” Peepers states. 

He doesn't know why he’s never played a video game before. Sure he always thought they were a huge distraction from the important things in life, but now he sees why Hater does them. With them came a thrill, but also relaxation.

“Come on sir let’s play another one, or maybe do another round!” Peepers fully turns his back to look at Hater, whose face is smashed into the covers. “No I’m too tired.” He whines, eyes remaining shut. “I’ll show you more tomorrow. I have games that are even funner than this one.” Peepers brightens at the sleep deprived promise. A part of him doesn't want to get up from Hater’s lap, but he forces himself. Hater’s exhausted, and besides he needs to put his console away any ways. 

He picks Hater’s up along with his, connecting them into the chargers. Shutting the T.V. off, darkness sweeping the room as he blindly reaches out for the bedside lamp. He fiddles with the switch for a second, before light snaps into the room. 

The bedside alarm says the time that he usually is waking up, and he has to do a double take to believe it. Had they really stayed up for that long? 

Maybe he shouldn't go to bed, and just start doing his duties now. 

He draws back the covers, fluffing the pillow and straightening everything out. A fog of fatigue enraptures him, but he pushes on. 

“Come on sir.” Peepers hopes Hater hasn't fallen asleep yet. Hater moans crawling up to the space Peepers left for him, and tugs the covers up himself. Once Hater stops moving Peepers adjusts them for him, wrapping them tighter around himself. “Goodnight Hater.” Peepers shuts the lamp off, waiting a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness to start moving. He turns, but before he gets the chance to take a step a hand shoots out and encloses around his wrist. 

“Wait!” Hater pops up, energy he didn't know he had left fueling him. Peepers jolts, lids widening. “Uh you should just stay since you're already here. Captain Tim left so his side of the bed is empty, and besides your room is far.” 

Peepers hesitates, standing still as he muses this over. He wants nothing more than to jump in besides him, but he has work to do. 

“I’m sorry sir but I wasn't planning on going back to bed,” Of course a yawn interrupts his sentence, and Peepers is thankful the room is dark and it was silent. Hopefully Hater didn't notice. “I have to start the work duties I’m already behind.” 

Hater narrows his eyes at him, removing his hand from his wrist. “Then I’m giving you the day off.”   “But sir-“ There’s way too much to be done, is what he wants to argue. But once Lord Hater gets an idea in his head there’s no changing it.  
  “And as your boss I’m ordering you to go to bed.” Hater states in a tone that’s not to be argued with, making tingles twist around Peepers spine. The tingles aren't necessarily negative. 

“Yes sir.” The elatedness seeps out of his words, and he races over to the other side of Hater’s large bed. He clamors in, snuggling into the large pillow. 

Before he fully situates himself Hater’s hands are back, dragging him into his body. Peepers can feel the warmth settling into Hater’s cheeks from underneath his neck, and hears his heartbeat jogging. His bones that lie straight out behind his head are tense, not yet moving to wrap around him. Hater’s giving him the option to out. 

Peepers nuzzles himself deeper into Hater’s chest, and man handles Hater’s hands to hug around him. Hater relaxes, jaw smoothing into a soft smile. 

Before either of them fully slip to sleep Peepers moves, back stretching to plant a kiss on Hater’s cheek. “Thank you.” Peepers mumbles and drops his head onto Hater’s shoulder, body slumping. In several seconds he dozes off, not thinking about what he had just done. It just felt so natural.

Hater, ebony consuming his chartreuse irises, is wide awake now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that I'm going to write a third chapter about the watchdogs having a nightmare this time, and am excited to get to doing it. So far the idea's in my head but I think it's going to be funny and cute.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is greatly appreciated! :) If there are any errors please don't hesitate to let me know so I can fix them. 
> 
> Tumblr: hatesgreat-bestvillian


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